


The Mirror Sings My Valor

by fiftysevenacademics (rapiddescent)



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015), Richard II - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath, Boys Kissing, Comfort/Angst, Guilt, M/M, Narcissism, Oral Sex, Sexual Confusion, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rapiddescent/pseuds/fiftysevenacademics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard and Aumerle cope with the aftermath of what has happened in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3338198">Ask Not For My Mercy</a>. There is very minimal Jupiter Ascending content in this, as it is primarily a follow up to the previous story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mirror Sings My Valor

Balem breezes toward the entrance, followed by Mr. Night, holding Richard's golden robe. They touch a spot behind their ears and dissolve before they even reach the door. Aumerle blinks fiercely to make sure he's not imagining things, runs over to where they last stood, and waves his hands around. But they make contact with nothing; the strange visitors are gone.

He darts back across the floor and bursts into the room. Richard perches on a chair, arms crossed over his bare chest, hair tangled around his face. He stares absently at the crown on the table, and does not look around when the door opens. Aumerle forgets himself and cries out as he flies forward.

"Richard!" 

Richard looks in the direction of the sound mechanically, without reaction or comprehension. Aumerle removes his drab, green outer robe and drapes it over Richard's shoulders in one smooth movement. Richard recoils slightly at his touch. Aumerle stoops and brushes a strand of hair from his face, fingertips lightly grazing his cheek along the way. 

"What did they do to you?"

Richard closes his eyes and turns his face away from Aumerle.

"Come on. Let's get this on you." 

Aumerle gently guides Richard's arms into the sleeves of the robe. As he fastens the belt he notices the sticky mess on Richard's hose and feels shame stab his heart. He allowed a stranger to use his lord, his cousin, his _lover_ , like a common whore! He should have disobeyed his king, should have done something, should have pounded Balem's smug face into the flagstones. He kneels and throws himself against Richard's chest, folding him in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Richard! I should have done something. I should have stopped them."

He feels Richard's palm rolling on his back, and finally, he speaks.

"I told you to leave. You did the right thing."

Aumerle looks up and sees that Richard is looking down at him with a troubled, yet tender expression. He lifts himself enough for their lips to meet, which Richard permits, but returns weakly. 

"I wonder if this is what it's like for the others when they... when I tell them to... do that... with their mouths."

It's an uncharacteristically philosophical thing for him to say, especially at a time like this, and Aumerle wonders if Richard is thinking out loud, or if he expects an answer of some sort.

"The others?"

"Bushy, Bagot, Green."

"They do it of their own free will and are grateful for the opportunity, I'm sure."

"I did this of my own free will, too, Aumerle."

"But you didn't have much of a choice, my lord. That... devil... bewitched you."

"He was as much a man as you or I, though one of greater might than I can even imagine. Some serve me in that manner, hoping to earn fame or fortune. But I served him and saved the world."

Aumerle stands up to steady his rattled nerves and goes over to the flagon of wine in the corner. He brings it to the table and fills Richard's cup. 

"My lord must be tired," he says, passing the cup to Richard. "Drink this while I fetch another robe."

While he waits, Richard feels fresh purpose course through him with each sip from his cup. He has no doubt that Balem spoke the truth, and an uncanny pride rises to meet his shattered dignity. He finds himself wishing for a mirror to see the face, the mouth, that worked such magic on this alien king, and tries to picture how the scene must have looked. He wishes he could have watched himself, seen Balem desiring him and enjoying release in him. He traces the topography of his face with his fingers, lingering with a flush of pleasure on the lips and the tiny mark Balem's nail left on his throat. Aumerle returns to find Richard pacing the room with the crown back on his head and an enigmatic smile playing on his face.

"Ah, cousin! You're back!" He goes to Aumerle and takes the robe and fresh hose from him. He doesn't bother to turn his back or feign any kind of modesty as he begins to change clothes in front of Aumerle. His mood is light, jovial, even.

"Poets sang of Helen's face that launched a thousand ships," he chuckles. 

"But _this_ ," he says, pointing toward his head. "Is the face that saved humankind, and the only thing I regret is that it has to remain our little secret."


End file.
